Crusade
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: A company of modern Space Marines is hurled backwards in time to the era of the Great Crusade. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the Doctrine of the Revenants Chapter Astartes, so named because from the moment we become one with Gene Seed, we are the walking dead, with no home, no family, no purpose other than too serve the Imperium of Mankind. It is our most important tenet, second only to the codex Astartes of battle and the tenets of Imperial rule and faith. All Marines of the Chapter will adhere to its tenets utterly on pain of demotion or, for the worst offenders, exile. _

_1. The Scout Company is hereby relegated to training positions only. A Scout is nothing more than a child, a scout novice. To send such children into war is inhumane and cannot easily be accepted, even by the Angels of Death. Therefore, let it be that the Scouts are taught the art of war by their elders, and be judged ready by selfsame elders, only then to don power armour for the first time. When these recruits are ready, let them be assigned to more experienced squads of Marines, hardy soldiers who will take it upon themselves to make sure the new Marine is both ready for battle and kept alive in his inexperience, for from such Marines will the future heroes of the Chapter be chosen. This will require an additional battle company to make up the available men the Chapter may call upon. _

_(In times of great need, the Scout Company may be called upon to give support to the forces of the main Chapter. In such times, the full brothers must endeavour to protect their young charges at all times.)_

_2. War has never, will never and should never be considered a pleasure. Although others amongst the Adeptus Astartes may enjoy such horrendous activity, we are supposed to be civilised creatures; to be shown to enjoy slaughter is to show our enemies we are of no worth and thus worthy of extermination. _

_An exception to this is when dealing with the Tyranid horde; the Tyranids are monsters foul and destructive, and thus must be swept aside with all piety. When facing them, a Marine must exercise full prejudice, the zeal of a warrior, in order to utterly cleanse the filth from existence and safeguard the Imperium. _

_3. Despite this, a Marine of the Revenants must always be ready for battle; the people of the Imperium of Man depend on us to defend them from all evils. To fail them would be the worst of all failures. A Marine of the Revenants must always be at the height of physical prowess. We cannot, and will not fail _

_4. All of our enemies, even those of the foul legions of Chaos, deserve nothing more or less than our pity. We owe our fallen brothers, the civilised Eldar, even the foul Orks some measure of respect, if only for their Marshal prowess, and we must never resort to torture or cruelty, as such things are barberous in the extreme and worthy only of disgusting monsters. _

_Exceptions to this are the Tyranid horde, who are barbaric monsters, and the Necrontyr, whose motivation and providence are unknown, and whose threat is so great that any means necesarry to annihilate them are sanctioned._

_Let this be the Doctrine of our Chapter even unto the ending of Mankind itself. Let civilisation be our herald. Let us be the example of what mankind is and can achieve. Ave Imperator. _

* * *

He was a Space Marine of the Adeptus Astartes, a soldier, born and bred – or rather, genetically modified from a successful applicant. He was seven feet tall, armoured in mostly black power armour, save for the blue helm, shoulder pads and backpack, and the trim on the pads was livid green, matching the Imperial Eagle on his chest, and the eye lenses on his helm. Like most of his Chapter, he had no markings on his armour, save for a numeral denoting squad and lettering denoting company.

He was a Revenant.

Of all the Adeptus Astartes, the Revenants were the only ones who did not, at any point, enjoy warfare. Their home world was a small agri-world called Peace which had roughly eighty million inhabitants and only a small PDF – the defence of the planet was usually entrusted to the Revenants. They never failed.

Brother Captain Jared Severus, the Space Marine in question's Captain, was right in front of him, a tall, imposing figure, wearing green robes over his power armour and holding a power mace and plasma pistol in his hands, ready to slay the enemies of the Emperor. Severus was the recently promoted Captain of the fourth company, taking over from the late lamented Yan Rill. At the moment he was bare headed, showing off his dark hair and piercing blue eyes. At his left was Librarian Venefus, a shorter Marine armed with a Force sword and bolt pistol. Venefus' eyes were deafened slightly and his armour was livid blue, but apart from that there seemed little to set him apart. The Marine knew there was more to him than met the eye though. At Severus' right was Chaplain Marcus. Marcus was an older Marine, but still enjoyed the fires of battle wherever possible. His skull-helm was intimidating enough to any enemy. His crozius arcanium - or as the younger trainees tended to call them, "big holy hitting thing" (but _never_ to a Chaplain's face) - was even more intimidating.

This particular campaign was on the planet Tires, where a significant Chaos presence had manifested, hundreds of Night Lords, Iron Warriors, and many other separate hostile legions had found themselves fighting to claim Tires. The Revenant's had come to stop them: no Imperial world deserved to become the playthings for monstrous Chaos traitors.

The plan for this current engagement was remarkably simple. A small group of Marines, including Brother-Captain Severus and Chaplain Marcus, were entering the capital city of Tires from the flank, while a main force of Marines, led by Venefus, assailed the front. The risks were apparent to the Space Marine, but he accepted his orders, if not without question, then without dissent.

Severus looked to the Marine and gestured him to take point. The Marine did so gladly.

The Marine's name was Battle Brother Magnus. He was a Tactical Space Marine on his first mission, and to say he was nervous would be a remarkable understatement: he wasn't nervous about fighting, but to be on his first mission made him feel unprepared, and he felt the irrational feeling that he was doomed to fail. Behind him, several battle brothers were placed to aid him in his learning experience.

"_Be wary,_" the voice of Brother Sergeant Nathaniel in his helmet. "_The enemy will fire on the Point Man first."_

"Understood," Magnus replied. "Moving forward."

He raised his bolter as he led the squad down a little side road, aware of the eyes of nine veteran Marines at his back. As he walked, he looked around, taking careful note of every single thing he saw. Nothing to see. He didn't like Nothing. He knew from his days as a trainee that Nothing was a bad thing to be facing.

"I don't trust this," he said softly. "Stay alert."

"_Understood,"_ Nathaniel replied, not chastising the young Marine for ordering him around, but silently accepting his words. If Magnus was right, then they would do better to be ready. If Magnus was wrong... well, nobody ever got in trouble for being too cautious. _"Squad," _ the Sergeant added, _"get ready."_

Two Marines ran ahead of Magnus, and kneeled on either side of the little road.

"Ready," one said.

Magnus narrowed his eyes, searching for targets. Then a hard cry came from one of his brothers;

"Enemy sighted! FIRE!"

Magnus crouched just as a group of be-robed, ugly humans appeared, their faces covered in tattoos and cuts.

"Cultists!" Nathaniel yelled. "Slaughter the wretches!"

"For Peace!" one Marine yelled, namechecking the Revenants' home world as he blasted the traitors. Coming up from behind the tactical squad, Captain Severus charged forward, his power mace activated and glowing with coruscating energies. He swung once, then again, and three cultists flew away from him, yelling as they died. Magnus meanwhile fell into a simple routine of aiming and firing, killing cultist after cultist.

Two minutes after the cultist attack had begun, it was over. The traitors lay slain all over the street, and not a single Marine had fallen.

"Misguided fools," Marcus said softly. "I pity them. Let whatever was left of their souls find peace."

"Your mercy does you credit Brother-Chaplain," Severus smiled. He checked on a few of his slightly injured men, before looking at Magnus. "You did well brother. I anticipate great things from you."

Magnus swelled with pride, and could only nod as his Captain moved on.

* * *

Severus moved on, leading the Space Marines further into the city. What most of his men didn't know was that the assault had a very specific purpose. Venefus had told the Captain and Chaplain that he sensed some kind of ritual being performed in the city. Although he could not be more specific, he did not need to be. Chaos rituals tended to be bad things worth stopping.

"How far to the rendezvous?" Severus asked his senior Sergeant. A grizzled veteran with half a skull missing named Varl.

"Not far," the Sergeant replied. "Estimated five minutes in the direction we're going in."

"Excellent," Severus grinned. "I was hoping to get this over with quickly." He motioned to his squad, and as they moved, he suddenly felt a curious sense of foreboding.

Ignoring it, he moved forward, eventually reaching the rendezvous point near a crossroads. A moment later, Venefus and his group reached them, with no apparent casualties.

"It is as I feared," Venefus said as soon as he reached his Captain. "No resistance but cultists. The Chaos Marines must be helping with the ceremony."

"Come then," Severus said with a smile. "Let us crash our erstwhile brother's party."

The small group of Marines - practically the entire company - moved forward with the solidarity of purpose Astartes were famed for. Apart from the Captain, there were six squads of Tactical Marines (including Magnus' and Varl's), two Devestator squads and two Assault squad. Even better was the surprise that Severus had waiting for the traitors: one he had kept from all but his two advisors.

Eventually they reached the location of the ritual: the city square. The massive Cathedral ahead looked to have been defaced by blasphemous symbols, and in the dead centre of the square was a sorcerer, chanting loudly - some kind of inane heretical babble that could not be discerned. Perhaps it was not meant to be.

"Ready brothers?" Severus said. The nods from his men gave him hope, and he nodded back at them. "Assault plan five-zero-one, then."

The Assault squads acknowledged with a nod, and leapt into a nearby building, their jump packs taking them as high as they needed to go. Meanwhile, the Devestator squads took up covered positions to snipe from, lascannons setting up and heavy bolters being aimed. The Tactical squads took up position to attack, Marcus and Venefus with them. On Severus' order, they would charge.

He hesitated for a moment, making certain that this was the right plan. Then at a gesture from his hand, his men moved.

* * *

There were twenty cultists in a circle, surrounding the Chaos sorcerer. Around this circle was a bodyguard of thirty Chaos Marines, in the colours of the Black Legion. Finally, there was a single Chaos champion in Terminator armour.

The Revenants knew exactly what to do.

The first shots were a hail of lascannon and heavy bolter fire from the Devestators, which tore through the traitors, killing a third of the power armoured ones. Next, the Assault marines swooped down from above, using their chainswords to cut down a good six or seven more, before the traitors could react. Finally, the Tactical squads charged, taking down more traitors and giving the Librarian a chance to attack the cultists, who were defenceless against his fury.

While Venefus killed cultists, Severus unveiled his "surprise". As the Terminator Champion started killing Assault Marines, Severus dropped a teleport homer that he had been carrying secreted on his person. A moment later, six Terminators teleported in; tall, powerful warriors armed and armoured with the very finest the Imperium of Man could provide for them. They charged into their fallen foe, and attacked. The traitor Terminator managed to crush the head of one of the Terminators but the remainder tore him to pieces.

The battle was theirs.

Twenty seven men had fallen - one Terminator, seven of the Assault Marines, one Devestator whose plasma gun had overloaded and eighteen Tactical Marines across the squads, including four from Varl's squad. Severus sighed and ordered an apothecary to see to the bodies.

"Well old friend?" he said to Venefus, walking up to the Librarian. "Did we stop whatever blasphemy these poor fools were trying to achieve?"

He bad been expecting the question to merely be a formality; after all, they had slain the sorcerer, whose rent body lay near Venefus' feet. However when Venefus looked at Severus, his face was filled with concern.

"I do not think we stopped it, Jared," he said, softly. "I don't know what they were trying to achieve, but they set it off successfully. It's continuing in a chain reaction."

"How long?" Severus asked, suddenly worried.

"I cannot tell," the Librarian said softly, "but I doubt it will be..."

Before he could finish, the centre of the square flashed once. Both Marines looked at the flash in abject horror, both knowing it probably meant some kind of portal.

"Marines!" Severus yelled, "ready yourselves!"

There was probably going to be an army of Dæmons charging out of the portal, as there usually was, that was what Severus thought. He knew his little company was probably not going to be up to the task of defeating them, but as a Space Marine he and his men had to try.

"Controlled ammunition bursts," Varl called to the Marines. "Make every shot count, men."

"The Emperor stands with us!" Chaplain Marcus called. "He is our shield and our sword! With Him at our side we cannot fail!"

"It has been an honour," Severus called, his voice rising above the din as the portal formed. "For Peace and the Emperor!"

The cry was echoed from every Marine. They were prepared to sell their lives dearly, all of them.

As it turned out, they wouldn't have to.

The portal flashed, and every single Marine was blinded by it's light...

* * *

When his visor cleared, Severus found himself staring down the barrel of a Bolter. He blinked once and tried to stand.

"Slowly," a Space Marine voice said.

He complied, standing up slowly. He found himself staring at a great hall of some kind, that looked as though it had been built to hold an entire Chapter of Space Marines. Looking around, he saw his brothers surrounding him, each faced with the same sight - a Space Marine bolter aimed at their head, by Space Marines of a Chapter unfamiliar to Severus. The Captain looked around, and noticed with a start that the bolters were all of a much older design, as was the armour - mainly Maximus and Crusade armour. Infinitely older models. What was this?

"Identify yourself," one of the new Space Marines said.

"Captain Jared Severus of the Revenants Chapter Astartes," Severus said immediately.

"No such legion exists," the Space Marine questioner replied instantly. Severus was about to retort that obviously it did when the word his captor had used hit him. _Legion_.

"I identified myself," he said, softly. "Now you."

"You are not in a position to give orders," the Space Marine holding the bolter said, a snarl in his voice.

"But," a new voice, calm and ordered, said, "it is courtesy to answer the Captain's question. And we are courteous."

Severus looked to see who was the origin of the voice, and was shocked and awed to see the speaker; tall, armoured in the same livery as his warriors, with long white hair and piercing eyes, and a soft smile.

"I am Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children," the warrior said. "And in the name of the Emperor, I want to know who you are and why you're here."

_Fulgrim. Emperor's Children._

Severus's life had just gotten a lot harder. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was to his men's credit that, having heard the name of the fallen Primarch, they were silent. A single wrong word would doom them all.

Severus looked at the Emperor's Children - thrice damned traitors to the cause of the Imperium - and did not see traitors. Their armour was old, but it still held the Aquila upon it, and still had purity seals attached. The Primarch was not the multi-tentacled monster Severus had heard tell of in the tales of the fall of Guilliman, but a noble countenanced warrior, beatific in aspect.

In short, this was not the traitorous Emperor's Children legion. They were, to all intents and purposes, the loyalists: loyal Space Marines.

But how was it possible? The Horus Heresy had been an age or more ago, thousands upon thousands of years prior to any Revenant's recruitment or even the anointing of the Chapter, which had only been a scant two thousand years ago. So how could these warriors - relics of a time eight thousand years before any Revenant - be here?

Time travel. Once, as a novice Marine, Severus had asked a Techmarine about time travel, whether it were possible. He couldn't remember why - one of those memories lost to the whims of time and the overwhelming remembrance of brothers lost, he supposed. The lecture on temporal mechanics, paradoxes and other such things however, though dimly understood, was still remembered. If they had travelled in time, they either had created an alternate history, where events might yet take a different course, or they were constrained to not hangs history. But which was which...?

The decision had to be his. He was Captain, and the responsibility was his alone.

"I'm waiting for an answer," Fulgrim said, a slight frown gracing his features.

It also had to be made quickly.

"I must confer with my men," Severus said, the spur of the moment taking him. "There is much I must decide."

Fulgrim looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded softly.

"You will have one half hour precisely, no more, no less," he said. "Use it well."

Severus nodded, and walked to find his senior officers. Fulgrim walked to confer with some of his own men, all the while keeping an eye on Severus intently.

* * *

Brother Sergeants Varl, Lomax, Dios, Nathaniel and Pollux, together with Terminator Sergeant Lucian, Marcus and Venefus, stood in a circle while Severus briefly outlined what he believed to have happened. The majority of his Sergeants looked unconvinced, but Varl simply looked at him grimly.

"What should I do then?" Severus asked, after outlining his choice.

"Either choice presents danger," Venefus said at once. "If this is an Alternate History, surely we have already changed something. But how do we know we won't make things worse?"

"If we did start spouting off about the Heresy," Lucian, ever wise Veteran, said, speaking slowly and bluntly, "they might not believe us."

"The Emperor's noble divinity is absolute," Marcus said softly. "Tell him the truth, and he will listen."

"So we plead our case to the Emperor himself?" Severus asked, alarmed. He wasn't sure he was ready to meet the God Emperor.

"It is the only way to prove ourselves true," Venefus said after a moment, a slight frown developing. "But there may be... certain complications."

Before Severus could ask what he meant by that, Fulgrim's voice called across to them. "Your half hour is up! You will speak!"

Venefus gave his Captain a look that clearly said _you know what to do_. Severus wasn't entirely certain that he did, but decided that if he was going to die, alone and far from the guiding light of his Emperor, he would at least go and meet the Emperor of now. If nothing else, he could die with some shred of happiness.

"Primarch Fulgrim," he said softly, walking up to the Primarch who looked, for some reason, oddly troubled. "I request that myself and my men speak with the Emperor himself, so that e may judge us."

Fulgrim looked unsurprised. "Very well," he said. "We shall convey your little band to the Emperor, and he will decide your fate."

Without another word, Fulgrim marched away. Severus blinked - he hadn't expected it to be so simple - and turned around, trying to think of exactly what he was meant to say to a divine being.

* * *

"What they said couldn't be true," Captain Polonius, senior officer of this batch of Marines, said. "It couldn't be. They can't be from the future, that's impossible. As for what they said about Horus - and the _Legion..._ you should kill them for even thinking we could turn traitor!"

"I would be suspicious if they had said "time travel" to me first," Fulgrim admitted, "but they were careful only to say it amongst themselves. I agree it sounds impossible - but there are many wonders we take for granted, Captain."

Polonius looked as if he wanted to argue, but decided against it. The Primarch was second in perfection only to the Emperor himself, and questioning perfection was not wise. "Then what do we do?" he asked his Primarch.

"What we said we'd do," Fulgrim replied. "Take them to the Emperor."

"You're sure that's wise?" Polonius asked. "Not to question your lordship, but... they might be assassins."

"We'll go in with them," Fulgrim said to his Captain. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

"Of course, Primarch," Polonius said, bowing slightly.

* * *

Magnus didn't know what to think. The last thing he remembered prior to awakening in what was, according to Brother-Sergeant Nathaniel, the past, was fighting Traitor Marines.

Strange to think that technically, there were no traitor Marines here. And more importantly, there was no Chapter here. The Chapter would not exist for eight thousand years.

A Space Marine knew no fear. This was a basic tenet every Chapter followed. A Space Marine knew no fear, only hatred of the enemy and loyalty to their Imperium.

But how could he know no fear? He didn't even know who his enemies were. The Traitors didn't exist yet. The Tau were primitives on a backwater. The Necrons hadn't even been discovered. What could a Space Marine do when he didn't know his place?

For a long moment, Magnus felt like panicking - and then it hit him.

He would follow his Brother-Captain. It was that simple. Loyalty to his Captain, his Chapter and his ideals was all that mattered.

He smiled. At the very least, he was looking forward to trying out a heresy era bolter. 


	3. Chapter 3

Terra. Known to antiquity as Earth. The source, heart and soul of the Imperium of Mankind.

Severus had never seen it. None of them had. In fact, he had heard a rumour once in his youth that Marines were barred from going, because then population of Earth had a fear of them. It wouldn't surprise him, given the heresy.

It was wondrous though. Fleets of warships surrounding it, at this distance like schools of fish. The planet itself, lit across every continent with blinking lights. The planet was nothing less than a jewel.

"We're really going to plead our case to Him on Earth," he said softly. Next to him, Chaplain Marcus smiled.

"We are," he confirmed.

"In all my years of service, I never expected to even see this system, let alone meet the Emperor himself," Severus said, his eyes drifting over the sight. "It is... overwhelming."

Before Marcus could respond, the door to the observation room they were in opened, and Fulgrim walked in.

"Captain Severus," the soon-to-be-traitor said. "We shall descend to Earth shortly, I require that you assemble a small team of your men; an escort, if you will."

"Very well," Severus said softly. "I will do so."

"The remainder of your group will remain here," Fulgrim continued, "to undergo Gene-seed tests."

"I understand," Severus nodded, seeing Fulgrim's logic. "I will assemble my escort group."

Fulgrim nodded and then left the Revenants to their thoughts. After a long moment, Venefus spoke.

"You need me on your escort," he said, speaking softly, but with a strafe urgency. "I am the most knowledgable among our company about this period of history. And that being the case, you'll need me to..."

"... convince the Emperor we aren't mad," Severus finished. "I know your knowledge, Venefus, and I was already planning on you accompanying me."

"And me, brother-Captain?" Marcus asked. "It would truly be a blessing to see the Emperor, if only briefly."

"And you, Marcus," Severus smiled. "If we ever return to our own place in time and space, Senior Chaplain Artorious will envy you."

Marcus said nothing more, but bowed slightly, humbled at the chance. Briefly, Severus considered who else might need to come along; Varl would kill him if he let him miss this chance, but what squad?

After a moment, Severus decided on Nathaniel's Squad. Though it contained one of the latest Marines to join, it was a good squad overall, and worked as a well oiled machine. Severus activated his helmet-vox, and relayed his orders.

* * *

Battle-Brother Magnus was having one of simultaneously the worst and best days of his life.

He was about to go meet the God Emperor of Mankind, which was something he had never thought possible, let alone probable, let alone something he would ever do. Not only that, but this would be the Emperor in his heyday, a powerful warrior rather than an inert figure on a throne.

On the minus side, he and his entire Company were back in the days of the arch traitor Horus, and the Emperor would most likely kill them.

Magnus could not decide whether to be elated or downcast, so settled on neutrality; the better choice in these circumstances, he felt.

Captain Severus stood with Magnus's squad, next to Brother Sergeant Nathaniel. With his helmet on, it was impossible for Magnus to tell what his Captain was thinking, but the Librarians, Venefus, who was bare headed, looked somewhat resolute, if downheartedly so. Chaplain Marcus had his skull helm on, but even through that, it was possible to feel his excitement like a tangible scent on the air. He was going to see not only Terra, but the Emperor himself.

Every time he reminded himself of that, Magnus had to suppress the urge to drop to his knees in prayer. It wasn't that he was necessarily scared - just... well, it _was_ the hole God-Emperor of mankind. Jitters... were excusable. Just this once.

The dropship they were in didn't just have the Captain and his escort, but also five warriors of the Emperor's Children, and their Primarch. Another fifteen Emperor's Children were in a second dropship. Magnus didn't know what to make of the Primarch; though he knew Fulgrim was - would be - a traitor, he gave off such a palpable aura of loyalty as made it impossible to believe. There was surely no way he could really be a traitor?

Then Magnus remembered some of his earliest lessons. _Chaos is insidious. It promises things, all the things you could desire, and it exploits every weakness you show. Let but a single chink into your armour, and you will fall._

Clearly the lesson here was, everyone could have chinks in their armour. Even Primarchs.

The dropship settled down, and Captain Severus removed his helmet, looking resolute to the young Marine's eyes. He led his group out, but Fulgrim quickly took the lead, waving away the Adeptus Custodes, and leading the group into... the Emperor's Palace.

_Jitters are excusable. Really. _

* * *

The Imperial Palace was more impressive than he could ever have dreamed. The corridors were at least twice the height of a Marine, and three times the width. Adepts and servitors walked by the band of Marines and Severus noted than they looked primitive by comparison to the, if not sleek, at least not quite so butchered looking models of his day.

Fulgrim led them to a great door, ornately covered in Aquila decorations and Imperial iconography. He banged on it thrice.

"Enter," a male voice called.

Fulgrim pushed open the door, and led the band of Marines into the chamber.

Had Severus known he was gawking at the future Golden Throne, he might have paid more attention to the giant chair at the back of the room. As it was, his eyes were caught by a man working on some bit of machinery with a Magos. The man looked normal, actually; a simple robe, long black hair tied back so as not to get caught in the machines, grey eyes... but his physique was that of a Space Marine, and there was something about him...

He looked at Fulgrim, and smiled briefly.

"Hello, Fulgrim," he said. It was the male voice from before - not too deep, not powerful, but with an odd sense to it. "I take it you've brought me the odd Marines."

Fulgrim said nothing, but merely gestured at Severus. The man walked up to Severus - who was slightly taller than him, in power armour. He looked up, and smiled. Severus couldn't speak for a long moment, but finally managed to choke out a few words.

"Am I in the presence of the Emperor?" he asked.

The man nodded.

As one, Severus, Venefus, Marcus, Varl and Nathaniel's squad all dropped to their knees, with a single chant of "venerate the immortal Emperor!"

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, and looked right at Fulgrim, who looked surprised.

"Um..." the Emperor said, "you can stand up now."

Smoothly, every Marine stood, standing to attention in the presence of their God. The Emperor shared another look with Fulgrim, before addressing Severus.

"Why don't you start by telling me everything?" he said, softly. 


	4. Chapter 4

Severus spoke for five hours, his men not tiring, barely moving. He spoke of his time: an Imperium of a million worlds, engaged in constant warfare, the thousand Chapters of the Space Marines, the Tau, the Tyranids...

He did not mention the heresy. He was careful not to mention "Chaos Marines," merely Chaos itself. He said nothing of Black Crusades. He hated lying to the Emperor - indeed, Chaplain Marcus would probably put some penance on him for it - but he didn't want to hurt his Emperor by claiming his favoured sons would turn - and more importantly, he didn't want to get himself and his men killed.

When he finished speaking, the Emperor - wearing a small, amused smile - asked him and his company to stay the night in the palace, while the Emperor slept on a decision. That the Emperor needed to sleep surprised Severus but he said nothing, for it was not his place to question the God Emperor.

One thing it was his place to do was research; he looked up the legions of the Emperor, to see how many had been found and how long it was until the Horus Heresy - roughly.

What he learned did not fill him with much hope. As far as he could tell, all of the Primarchs had been found; it was now merely a question of time. As best Severus could tell, Alpharius had been found three years earlier, leaving maybe thirty before the Heresy. He had no idea how he and his small band were meant to prevent the greatest and most terrible conflict ever known to mankind, but he knew it had to be done. Thousands of lives would be made better for it.

* * *

"I knew Roboute was writing _something_ like that," he said.

Fulgrim said nothing for a long moment. The Emperor was sitting on the Throne he had been building (which wasn't yet operational), and thinking. Those words were the first he'd spoken.

"I mean, he mentioned it in passing once," the Emperor continued. "A Codex Astartes, a little rules manual on how to arrange things. I told him, go ahead and write me a draft. If it's as extensive as Captain Severus said, then no wonder he hasn't got back to me."

"Do you believe them, then?" the Primarch asked.

"They weren't lying," the Emperor said, softly. "You noticed the omissions, I trust?"

"Omissions, my lord?" Fulgrim asked.

"No mention of me, for one thing," the Emperor said. "And I know I'm still alive there because he mentioned the astronomican, but he was very careful not to mention me. Or for that matter, half the legions."

"I noticed that," Fulgrim said, gathering up his courage.

"He mentioned the Ultramarines, the Space Wolves, the Iron Hands, the Fists, the Salamanders and both sets of Angels, the Raven Guard and the White Scars, but no mention of the Luna's, the Children..."

Fulgrim fidgeted uncomfortably.

"... the Sons, the World Eaters, the Word Bearers, Alpharius' lot... what did he name them? Alpha Legion?"

"Yes my lord," Fulgrim said.

"Half of my legions can't have been wiped so utterly out," the Emperor said, a grim cast settling into his features. "Why would they leave that out?"

"My lord," Fulgrim said, "I... believe I may have an answer."

The Emperor looked at Fulgrim, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'well?'

Fulgrim opened his mouth, and told him what he had overheard about a 'heresy' led - apparently - by Horus. As he spoke, the Emperor looked more and more shocked, confused and finally coldly angry.

"They weren't lying," he said, after Fulgrim had finished. "But they omitted. Worst thing is, I know why. "

Without elaborating, the Emperor stood and headed off for the chamber of the Revenants' Librarian.

* * *

Venefus kept his eyes closed. He knew who was coming, and resisting in any way meant certain death. He knew that whatever path he chose to tread would lead to death. Stay, flee... either way, same result.

No point running from the inevitable.

He meditated, and briefly considered sending a prayer to the Emperor. But then, here, now, would that not be an exercise in futility? He did so anyway. Futility felt good.

_Faith is never futile_.

The Emperor of Mankind entered. His aura was hot, like a heater on maximum against Venefus' skin. The others had been surprised at how unremarkable he seemed. All that had surprised Venefus was how blind they were.

"You want to search my soul for the entire truth," he stated more than asked.

"You're a Librarian, and most likely to survive the process," He said in return. "I also had less qualms against hurting you."

"Because you do not approve of us," Venefus said.

"Precisely," He said. He stepped forward - flanked by two armoured guards, probably Custodes - and grabbed Venefus' head.

"This is going to hurt," the God Emperor said.

* * *

_The Emperor was standing in a room unlike any other. It felt vaguely familiar, but dust had settled into it, the machines were gone, and a dead body sat in the chair, plugged into it's life support systems._

"Who are you?" he wanted to ask.

"YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE," a voice that felt and sounded like millions said into his mind.

"YOU ARE A SHADOW OF THE PAST."

"AN ECHO, NOTHING MORE."

"ALL YOU WERE, WE ARE."

"ALL YOU REMEMBER IS TO US ANCIENT HISTORY."

"YOUR WEAKNESSES ARE PURGED FROM US."

The Emperor approached this entity, unsure what it was but having a horrible sinking sensation.

"What are you?" he asked.

"YOU KNOW," it replied. The corpse did not move, barely breathed, it's mouth gummed shut.

"I..." the Emperor did. He didn't want to know what it was he saw before him, but the truth filled his mind with utter clarity. "How?"

"YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE."

"Marines from your time have ended up in mine," the Emperor said. The... It, seemed to ponder this.

"REVENANTS," it said after a moment.

"THEIR CHAPTER MOURNS."

"Yes, Revenants." What was this version of him? "I wanted to know the truth of them, so I entered ones mind, and came here."

"YOU ARE NOT HERE."

"YOU ARE A SHADOW."

"AN ECHO."

"AT FIRST, WE THOUGHT AN ECHO OF SOME PART OF OURSELVES LONG UNHEEDED."

"BUT NO."

"How are we able to communicate like this?" the Emperor asked.

"STRANGE THAT YOU DO NOT KNOW."

"FOR SO LONG, WE HAVE KNOWN ALL."

"ALL PSYKERS ARE IMBUED WITH A PART OF US."

"TO ENTER COMMUNION WITH THEM AS YOU HAVE IS TO ENTER COMMUNION, IN A WAY, WITH OURS."

"FEW CAN."

"WE CAN."

"WE HAVE."

"By the stars..." the Emperor said, "what happened to you?"

It seemed to ponder again.

"THE ANSWER WILL BRING PAIN," it said at last.

"WE HAVE FORGOTTEN PAIN."

"BUT YOU WILL FEEL IT."

"Pain is life," the Emperor said. "Tell me. I came here to know the truth."

The voice hesitated, but when it finally began again, it was clear and direct.

"WHEN WE WERE YOU," it began, "OUR FAVOURED SON WAS HORUS."

"MIGHTY AND NOBLE."

"I know," the Emperor said, angered slightly. "I only spoke to him yesterday."

"HIS STAR BURNED BRIGHT," It continued, unnerving of it's past self's words.

"BUT THE FIRE WAS CORRUPTED."

"HE DIVIDED OUR SONS."

Suddenly, eighteen figures stood around the Emperor. On one side - faded with time's effect on memory but still much the same as he remembered - stood Horus, together with Mortarion, Perturabo, Fulgrim, Angron, Konrad Curze, Lorgar, Magnus and Alpharius. On the other, Ferrus, Vulkan, Sanguinius, Roboute, Lion, - standing a little apart as though ashamed - Corax, Jaghatai, Rogal Dorn and Leman. Two - always two - missing.

The Emperor suddenly knew with a clarity what he was seeing; the divide between loyalists, and those who had followed Horus.

"No..."

The other Emperor spoke no more, but a flash of images wrought through the Emperor's mind. War unending; on Terra, on Tallarn, on Mars. Millions slain. Ferrus gone. Sanguinius dead. Rogal and Roboute slain. Jaghatai and Leman missing. Corax running away from dreadful deeds. Vulkan leaving his sons. Fulgrim, a demon prince. Alpharius slain.

So. Much. Death.

* * *

He came out of it with a start. The Librarian was a smoking wreck, his body fried, yet still somehow breathing. The Emperor motioned, and the two Custodes took him out. He'd be dead soon even with help but the Emperor felt he had to try.

Not that it mattered. There were more important things at stake, and the Librarian had known that. Among his last thoughts had been - amazingly - a prayer to the God-Emperor. All that work into abolishing religion, and the Emperor just got a new one popping up over him. He supposed it was understandable but he didn't want to be a god.

Especially not the god in that throne...

He got on the vox, and sent a message to the Astropath comm room. He ordered them to relay a summons to every single Primarch. It wasn't that difficult to arrange, Lorgar had already been inbound for a lecture, and the others would happily drop anything if he said it was important. Their loyalty was unquestioned. Supposedly unquestioned. Damn.

His life had just gotten a lot more complicated, and for an Emperor of a galactic Imperium, that was something unwelcome in the extreme. 


	5. Chapter 5

Severus and Marcus marched into the hospital room, to see the sight no commander ever wants to see, yet somehow always does.

Venefus, stripped of his armour and lying in a bed, was obviously doomed. His system had been overloaded by a massive psychic field... and Severus knew whose it had been, because the culprit was sitting on the opposite side of Venefus' bed.

"I'm not going to denigrate his sacrifice by saying you should have told me," the Emperor of Mankind said. "I know why you didn't. I've killed for lesser insults than suggesting one of my sons is going to turn traitor."

"So you wanted the whole truth," Severus said.

The Emperor nodded.

"Had any other Marine been used they would have died before I learned anything useful," the future God of humanity said. "As it stands, this one - your Librarian - was strong enough, and now... I know everything."

"About the traitors," Marcus said confidently. The Emperor looked up and gave him a hard look, and both Marines almost visibly shrank, before the Emperor's gaze softened.

"Yes, that," he finally said. He turned his gaze to the Librarian, whose burned body was slowly giving out. "He prayed... before we broke the connection, he actually prayed to me. I killed him, and he prayed to me."

"You are a God to us," Severus said.

"I'm trying to free humanity from that nonsense," the Emperor snapped, and again, both Marines shrank. The Emperor was angry, and to them, it was the anger of a God. Though he looked, for want of a better term, "normal," they knew he was not. Eventually, the Emperor calmed.

"You, Chaplain," he said. "I will wake him, long enough for you to administer his last rites."

Marcus hesitated.

"I believe your exact words were, 'Im trying to free humanity from that nonsense,' my lord," he said, and there was an odd tone in his voice that sounded almost like offence. He was actually _offended_ by the Emperor's attitude.

The Emperor smiled sadly. "I killed this Marine," he said. "He prayed to me and I killed him. The least I can do is allow him some last comfort."

With that, he placed a hand upon Venefus' brow, and... Severus didn't know how to describe it. There was a glow, a bright one, so bright the room filled with it, and then it was gone, leaving no afterimage, no sign it had been. The Librarian opened his eyes.

"Marcus," he said softly, and the Chaplain went to him. The Emperor meanwhile, walked out, and Severus followed. The last rites of a Marine were private.

"I am sorry," the Emperor said. "I'm sure he was a valiant man."

"He was," Severus replied. He didn't tell the Emperor of the friendship he had shared with the Librarian, of how many times the two had saved one another's lives, of how many debts... would now forever remain unpaid. "He fought for Peace. I don't think any of us will forget him."

"Peace?" the Emperor asked. "You said your time was one of war?"

"It is," Severus smiled. "Peace is our homeworld."

The Emperor nodded. Then he looked around, one way up the corridor and then the other.

"I know what I am to you and your men," he said, and there was a strange, haunted look in his eyes, "but understand - I am not that, and if I have my way, I never will be. Please tell your men... to _try_ and stop seeing me as a God."

"It will not be easy," Severus said. And then, something else the Emperor said caught his attention. "If you have your way?"

The Emperor grinned. "I'm gathering the Primarch's together. I know the circumstances that led to the vast majority of their falls, and suffice it to say, I'm going to address them."

"How do you know it will work?" Severus asked.

"I don't," the Emperor said, "but the alternative is Ferrus, Sanguinius, Horus, Alpharius, and all of my sons either dying, vanishing or being transformed into monsters. I need to try."

"I understand, my liege," Severus said. The Emperor nodded, and then stopped, before looking at Severus with an odd expression.

"Whose Legion were your Chapter descended from?" he asked.

"Imperial Fists," Severis replied. He knew they were his forefathers as well as he knew his own name. The Emperor nodded and smiled.

"Well then," he said. "I'll need you and your men to be ready to get interrogated by a large number of Astartes, I imagine my sons will bring themselves here with a lot of escort."

Severus bowed, and the Emperor walked off, passing Apothecary Vigo on the way. Severus nodded to the Marine, who briefly saluted before entering Venefus' chamber, just as Marcus walked out.

"His soul is with the... is at peace now, Brother Captain," the Chaplain said. Severus smiled bitterly; much comfort had been lost in death for them now. Where would their souls go, if not to the Emperor?

"Why did you call Vigo?" Severus asked.

"He that is dead, take from him the Chapter's due," intoned Marcus in reply. "I don't know whether there will be anything to salvage, but..."

He was interrupted by Vigo walking out of the room, shaking his head. Severus felt the unnatural urge to smash something. He had lost men before - but _never_ like this. This... he felt like he couldn't even complain because it would be sacrilegious!

"Venefus told me something," Marcus said softly, startling Severus out of his dark thoughts. "He told me to speak to Lorgar."

Which one was Lorgar? Ah, that's right, Word Bearers. "And why did he tell you that?"

"I don't know, but they were his final words, Brother Captain," Marcus said. "They must have been important. When Lorgar arrives, I will speak with him."

Severus nodded, then smacked Marcus on the shoulder.

"Come, Brother. We have a funeral to attend to."

* * *

Rogal Dorn was the first to come. Fulgrim told him to speak with the Emperor, and for three hours now, that's where he had been.

Fulgrim was wracked by self doubt, the likes of which he could not remember having suffered before. His father - the Emperor - had told him everything.

Including what happened to Ferrus. At first, Fulgrim couldn't believe what his father had said, that _he_ had struck down Ferrus Manus and brought his mutilated was to Horus' feet! How could that Fulgrim - that future him he was supposedly destined to be in only a scant thirty years! - become such a monster? To strike down his closest brother?

Although he had been suspicious at first, Fulgrim now thanked whatever powers there were that the Revenants had come here. Without their catalyst, he would have become everything he hated.

He was startle out of his thoughts by Rogal and the Emperor stepping out of the Throne Room. Rogal kept looking at his hands as if worried they would fall off. The Emperor looked grim.

"So," the Imperial Fist's Primarch said. "Where are these... future sons of mine?"

"Holding a funeral," Fulgrim answered. "Have you...?"

"I told him everything," the Emperor confirmed. "Fulgrim, Roboute and Sanguinius will be arriving soon. See that they know that there's something to be said, please?"

Fulgrim nodded, and headed for the landing bay where all incoming transports came. He briefly saw Rogal and the Emperor head off in a different direction...

* * *

"Librarian Venefus was one of that shadowy group I don't think any battle brother outside the Blood Ravens knows that much about or cares to," Severus said, softly. His company - eighty-odd Marines plus the five Terminators - were arranged by squad, and each was solemn and dignified. Severus couldn't be prouder to command them. "But I came to know him as more than just a Librarian. Venefus was witty, brave, noble, self sacrificing and always put duty first. He was in every way an exemplar of a Space Marine, regardless of whether he was a Librarian or not."

A shadowy figure slipped into the corner of the room. Severus paid it no mind; short of the Emperor himself, no one would interrupt this.

"His last act was to prove our word to the Emperor. His last words not a vain message of platitude but a word of advice." Here, Severus glanced a the Chaplain next to him, whose helmet was off and whose old and soft face belied the strength he showed in battle. "I do not doubt that we of the Fourth Company will miss him. Now, Chaplain Marcus will lead us."

Marcus stood to the pulpit that had been erected, and looked among his brothers.

"When our Chapter was founded, we were like all others," he began, oddly. Severus narrowed his eyes; he had seen many funerals, including Yan Rill's, and had never heard these words. The Chaplain continued. "We fought, and we saw fighting as an inescapable thing, something to be gloried in. Then, we found the Doctrine of Peace, and it showed us the truth. The Emperor wanted a time when Mankind would no longer need to reach out among the stars, but would be safe amongst them. We do not fight for War's sake, Brothers, not like other Chapters. We fight for Peace's."

Severus felt a little confused, but his men responded with the rote words. "We fight for Peace and the Emperor."

Chaplain Marcus looked at the casket containing Venefus. "Venefus knew this. He was, as the Captain said, an exemplar. It is unfortunate that he has died in this time. We cannot know what awaits him."

At these words, a little uneasiness spread throughout the company.

"But we can remember him, and our duty," Marcus continued.

"Our duty is to Mankind," the Revenants replied.

"Mankind relies on the Astartes to never falter," Marcus said.

"We shall not falter," the Revenants replied, and Severus found himself speaking with them.

"The Primarch's memory orders that we never fail," Marcus continued.

"We shall not fail," the Revenants said.

"The Emperor demands that we never doubt!" Marcus yelled.

"We shall not doubt!" the Revenants, including their Captain, yelled.

"And duty demands that we shall not fear!"

"We shall not fear!" the Space Marines said.

"He that is dead, rejoice that his suffering is over," Marcus said. "From the moment we were implanted with gene seed, we became the walking dead. Now let the dead return to death."

The casket, at a gesture from Marcus, was immolated. The shadowy figure disappeared.

Severus gave it no mind. He was too busy remembering. Venefus had been his friend. He would be missed.

As his men dispersed, Severus walked out the same way the shadow had, looking for the mysterious figure.

It didn't take him long to find him.

"You are not one of my brothers," the Captain said. "Why were you at Venefus' funeral?"

"No," said the figure, ignoring the question. "I am not one of your brothers."

The figure took his hood down, and looked Severus right in the eye. He was sharp-featured and bright eyed. With golden skin; no ordinary human.

"My name is Alpharius," he said. "Primarch of the Alpha Legion." 


	6. Chapter 6

"Alpharius?" Severus said, trying not to sound too accusatory. After all, the Prinarch of the Alpha Legion had not (yet) betrayed the Imperium.

"Yes," the Primarch smiled. "I wanted to know what you were like, you future Marines."

"You have spoken with the Emperor then," Severus guessed.

"No, but the rumours are flying," Alpharius said. "Space Marines from the future, bringing tales of a great betrayal..."

Severus said nothing, not trusting this new Primarch.

"Besides, you don't look or act quite like the Marines of this time," Alpharius continued. "It's subtle; but so am I."

"Indeed," Severus said.

"I imagine I will see you again," Alpharius said, walking out.

"I look forward to it," Severus said nonchalantly as the Primarch left the room. He had the feeling he'd just been sized up, and he didn't like it. Still, what else could he do? Complain?

Better to wait.

* * *

Magnus was alone, sitting and contemplating his life. Here he was, his career as a Revenant suppose to be just beginning, and in some ways he felt like it was already done. The death of Librarian Venefus had shaken everyone up a tad - just a tad, mind you.

The young Space Marine had been looking forward to crushing the enemies of the Imperium. As it stood, he doubted he would ever get the chance. His Company seemed to be being kept here, under lock and key, allowed to wander the Palace but not beyond it.

He had observed the occasional crusade-era Marine, and noted that they seemed to be... well, _more_. being around them now as a full Marine of the Revenants Chapter felt almost the same as being around Revenants when he was a young boy. Maybe it was a gene seed thing.

Magnus could see company Tech Marine Creo having an argument in binary with a Tech Priest; Magnus couldn't tell what it was about but he guessed it was something to do with Librarian Venefus' Mark VII armour, since the Tech Priests around here were constantly looking at the advanced bits with a kind of mechanised glee. Magnus sighed. He had read stories about this time, but bluntly it was all insane. Nothing could have prepared him. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

A shadow climbed over him, and Magnus looked up, to find himself looking at a tall figure in yellow power armour, trimmed in red. An Imperial Fist.

"Hello," Magnus said to the armoured figure.

"Mind if I sit down?" the Fist asked. Magnus made a gesture indicating that he should, and the Fist did.

"It's quite a story going round," the Fist said. "That you're all from the future."

"If you only knew the half of it," the young Marine said softly. "It's difficult."

"I do not doubt," the Imperial Fist said. "But we will do our best to help. I understand your... Chapter, is descended from our own?"

"Yes," Magnus said.

The Imperial Fist said nothing from behind his helmet, but Magnus got the feeling that he was almost smiling.

"The Primarch Dorn does not forget his own," the Fist said. "Worry not."

Somehow, that reassured Magnus, and he nodded in gratitude.

"Now brother," the Fist said, "I want to know as much as you can tell me of your Chapter. I'd like to know what Dorn's successors are like."

* * *

Rogal Dorn was waiting for the Fist when he walked out of the hall the Revenants were in half an hour later.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'd say they are loyal, my lord," the Fist said. "But this... doctrine they keep going on about... I'd have to get a look at it to be certain they aren't cowards or traitors."

"But you don't think they are," Dorn asked.

"No," the Fist said with certainty. Form sighed, saluted his man, and walked off. After a moment, a voice caught up with him.

"Spying on your sons, Rogal?" the Emperor asked.

"It's a big thing you asked of me," Rogal replied. "I had to be certain."

"I know you did, my boy," the Emperor nodded. "I know. But still, it's a little extreme, wouldn't you say?"

"You asked me to give a hundred random Marines five hundred of my newest men to have in order to build their 'Chapter' up again," Dorn said. "Forgive me if I'm driven to extremes."

The Emperor held up a hand. "It does seem a little unlike you."

"I know, but you've told me how my entire life as I know it has thirty years before half my brothers go mad and try their damnedest to destroy it, culminating in you and Horus practically killing each other..." Dorn paused for breath. "I'm allowed to be a little out of character. I swear, it will not happen again."

"And I believe you," the Emperor said. "Now, shall we? Lorgar will be here soon."

Rogal nodded solemnly.

* * *

Lorgar's Thunderhawk descended, and as soon as it touched down, Lorgar himself jumped out, eight feet of armoured, angelic power. As soon as he saw the Emperor, who was standing on the platform with Rogal, Alpharius (to whom the full story of the Heresy came as little shock - although he had been a little surprised at the role Fulgrim supposedly played and equally surprised that the Space Wolves and Dark Angels - both prideful - hadn't joined Horus instead), Fulgrim and - standing near the back, looking small - Chaplain Marcus, Lorgar smiled, before walking up to his father and going to his knees.

"My liege," he said.

The Emperor looked a little sheepish, but beckoned his son up. The little procession, minus Fulgrim, who was tasked with waiting for the envoys from the Ultramarines and the Blood Angels, walked down the corridor from the landing pad, Marcus falling into step a little behind Lorgar.

The latest Primarch to arrive was silent, walking a respectful distance from his God. Marcus saw his chance.

"The truly divine is humble and denies it's divinity," he said. Lorgar said nothing at first, but threw a glance - bemused - in his direction. Marcus tried again. "That which demands worship will never be worthy of it."

"Why do you speak such words to me?" Lorgar asked softly.

"I fear a great test of your faith is to come to you," Marcus said. "Greater than any you know. I would bid you remember what I have said."

"You are a Chaplain?" Lorgar asked.

"I am," Marcus replied. "And know that your legion is not alone in it's veneration of Him on Earth."

Lorgar was about to ask what he meant by that but the Emperor called him over, asking for a progress report. By the time the Primarch looked back to find the Chaplain he had vanished. Lorgar did as he was bidden however and remembered his words.

"If I may ask why we have all been summoned, my lord?" he asked the Emperor. The Emperor said nothing, but led him into his throne room - leaving Rogal and Alpharius outside.

And then his world shook.

Firstly, the Emperor told him that his legions progress was too slow and that he should not spend so much time setting up religious worship when that was precisely what the Emperor was trying to avoid. Lorgar was shocked and horrified by his God's words, and felt the need to beg forgiveness, but then remembered the words of the Chaplain. A test. Then the Emperor castigated him for his foolishness in thinking the Emperor was a God. _The truly divine is humble and denies it's divinity._ Lorgar suddenly found himself happy he had met the Chaplain, whose simple words had bolstered his faith against the Emperor's anger. Lorgar did, however, understand the underlying message of 'speed up', and briefly considered the possibility of just leaving a few Marines on each world to make sure the conversion went as planned.

And then, to Lorgar's surprise, the Emperor's tone changed from anger to resignation.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it's hard for you. I know I'm... not a good... well, not a good father."

Humbleness again. The Chaplain was right.

"And I don't want you thinking I'm not grateful for your work," the Emperor said. "Compliance on those worlds of yours is almost one hundred percent, a rating immense see anywhere else but from Roboute."

A pang of jealousy appeared, but Lorgar ignored it, and focused on the compliment.

"I want to make sure you know I appreciate you," the Emperor said. "Because what I'm going to tell you next will shock you beyond reason."

"I listen, my liege," Lorgar said.

The Emperor told him. 


	7. Chapter 7

And so it continued for days. Konrad Curze and Mortarion were silent when they were told. Roboute Guilliman was full of questions, and ended by offering a half of his legion to the defence of Terra, "just in case." Magnus the Red had spent five hours meditating and then said he believed. Ferrus and Perturabo had opposite reactions, Perturabo happily believing the heresy could happen, Ferrus refusing point blank to see it. Angron had laughed. Both Lion El'Jonson and Sanguinius insisted on speaking to the Revenants before believing, and Sanguinius flat out refused to believe that Horus of all people could kill him. Vulkan and Jaghatai Khan were silently contemplative, Corax and Leman Russ swore.

Eventually, only one was left to tell, one last Primarch to warn of betrayal.

The most dangerous one.

The Emperor insisted on fifty Imperial Fists and fifty Ultramarines To stand witness to the arrival of Horus, the bright star, the favoured son. He also asked Marcus, Severus and their Terminators to come as well.

"I don't like this," Sergeant Varl said. He had insisted on standing with Severus; a bodyguard like no other. Severus took a money to consider hiss service with Varl.

Varl was a Sergeant at the same time Yan Rill was, and the most veteran of all the Space Marines of the Fourth. Indeed, there were few who had served longer than him in the Chapter, not even it's Chapter Master, Aldus Flynn (although Flynn was new). Carl had refused a dozen promotions to command other companies or join a Sternguard squad, feeling that the more ornate armour and weaponry didn't make a man any better at his job, and that 'where I am is enough for me'. Severus wondered why it had been him and not Varl who had been ordered to captain the Fourth when Yan Rill had died in the 13th Black Crusade, but then it was obvious: Varl had refused, again. Severus had a horrid moment of self doubt - he was just a second choice. But then he mastered himself.

"Ready?" he said to his men.

"We know no fear," Varl said softly.

"It's different now," Marcus said. "The great enemy approaches..."

They were all nervous. How could they not be? Here they would stand in the presence of the greatest enemy and traitor Mankind had ever known, the architect of the Imperium's shattering.

"We are ready, Brother Captain," the Terminator Sergeant said, startling Severus. He looked up at the man, whose bare head was a stark contrast to the four others. The Sergeant's name was Dion. Dion was a veteran of more wars than Severus could remember happening in his time, and was well respected by all the Company and indeed the Chapter. That he stood with them on Tires had been an honour. That he stood with Severus now was a blessing.

"I appreciate your presence brother," Severus said honestly. "I shall probably appreciate it more in a moment."

And with that, a noise sounded the arrival of an ornate Thunderhawk, one that bore the symbol of the Luna Wolves. It landed softly, and the side hatch hissed open with a start.

And then he stepped out. Roughly eight feet tall, power armoured and powerful. An ornate sword at one side, a lightning claw on the other. Horus the Warmaster, warrior and diplomat without peer. Simultaneously greatest hero and foulest villain of this time, depending precisely when you looked.

But Captain Jared Severus wasn't looking at that.

He was looking at the figure behind him. Smaller, even when Terminator armoured, with a long topknot.

The Emperor sensed it first, from all eight Revenants, but most of all from their Captain. For it was all well and good seeing Horus, the great enemy, but he was an ancient foe none cared to remember too much of when they could help it.

Abaddon was another matter.

"Despoiler," Severus growled, gripping his power mace. And then Abaddon looked over at him, and Severus remembered the burning of Cadia and a thousand other worlds.

It was a single stroke of bad fortune. Severus remembered the despair that had filled him and remembered the Despoiler's part in it, and something snapped and he didn't know _why_ he was charging, and didn't care. All he knew was, he was charging, yelling the cry of "for Peace and the Emperor!" and Varl, loyal Varl, always stood by his side before and always would now. Marcus too charged, and before Severus knew it... he wasn't facing down the Despoiler, but an angry looking Primarch.

The sword of Horus raised, and Severus swore in that moment he was going to die, but didn't care... but then, Dion was there, blocking the blow, and speaking softly.

"Primarch or no, you shall not touch my Captain."

"Enough!" the Emperor yelled. "Severus, explain yourself."

Severus stood, his control regained, and stared straight at Abaddon, who just stared blandly at him.

"Despoiler," was all he said, and then he and his men marched off the platform.

* * *

The Emperor had explained everything to Horus. The favoured son of the Imperium's Master had asked to be excused, and gone to stand on a balcony somewhere. No doubt the news that destiny ha cast him as the villain was somewhat distressing, even to a Primarch. Now the Emperor had the rather more difficult - or remarkably simple, depending on attitude - duty of talking to the Revenants.

When he got to Severus' chamber, he was surprised at how sparse it was: and also by the little devotional candle, right by a small, hand drawn picture of the Emperor himself and a little Aquila pendant.

"I thought I told you, no worship," the Emperor said, forgetting his purpose in his annoyance.

"I was born worshipping the God-Emperor," Severus replied. "Every Imperial citizen - ostensibly - worships you. You are the saviour of Mankind, and suffer to keep our Imperium safe from..."

"I don't do anything of the sort," the Emperor snapped, his anger palpable on the air. Severus, unafraid, faced him.

"No you don't," he said. "And now you never will, because of my men and I. I suppose I'm grateful. But that leaves a big gap in our lives, and something must fill it."

"You are a Space Marine," the Emperor said. "Duty is your life."

"Yes," Severus said. "Duty to the God-Emperor, the saviour of mankind, Him on Earth. The trouble is," the Space Marine continued, softening his voice, "you aren't any of those. You claim you are just a man. You aren't. And if you're worried about worship, you should ask yourself what you'd rather we worshipped."

"I am not a God," the Emperor said, coldly. "And I never will be."

"To me, and to my men, you are," Severus replied. "And from what I can tell, to others you are as well. So the question is, Emperor, whether you're ready to take the responsibility a God must."

The Emperor turned on his heel and marched out. How dare he. How dare that thin blooded, faded little specimen of a Space Marine speak to him like that? Did he imagine that the Emperor did not know duty?

_Not as the God-Emperor does, you don't. Imagine it, Anatolian: ten millennia of that. Could you endure? Ten thousand years of being so utterly alone, utterly powerless, your mind strained to try and save your people and all the while knowing you will fail..._

He ignored the nasty little thought and marched to his throne room. Once there, he sat and sighed, sitting down in the chair he had prepared for himself. The little Marine was no trouble. A catalyst, nothing more. The Emperor would fob him off with an army to command and done.

There were more important matters at hand. The Emperor looked up, as eighteen sons entered the room.

"My sons," he said. "I'm glad you're here."

He sighed. Suddenly he felt old, older than he had ever felt.

"The events I have spoken of must not happen," he said. "To that end, we will remain here, until every grievance we have, every petty squabble, all you hold against your brothers - or even against me - is expunged and dealt with."

The Emperor sat. It was a long list. 


	8. Chapter 8

Perturabo and Dorn. Perturabo and constant, unending sieges. Alpharius and Guilliman. Angron and his modifications. The Lion and Luther.

Horus' pride.

Every Primarch had something to say, something they had to complain about. Even Roboute Guilliman, who most expected to be happy to do his duty, was revealed to be frustrated with how the Imperium had less structure to it, less in the way of standardisation.

The Emperor was shocked. He had never attempted to discern the various problems that his sons faced, too busy building an Imperium and saving mankind he supposed.

He stopped. Eighteen men here, with all the power that they had, and they were all so crammed full of neuroses as to be the worst possible people to be left in charge of their Legions. _No wonder there was a heresy_, the Emperor thought. He had left his entire army in the hands of people he only trusted because he had made them.

When the last problem had been aired, (over five hours after they had started), the Emperor dismissed the Primarchs to their quarters. Now, he had to figure out some way of sorting out their various problems.

He had an inspiration.

* * *

Lorgar returned to his quarters to find Kor Phaeron waiting for him outside them, saluting as his Primarch came into view.

"My lord," the trusted Marine said. "I trust your audience with the Emperor went well?"

"We went through a lot today," Lorgar replied. "He wanted us to air our grievances."

"He is wise, my lord," Phaeron said, careful to be respectful of the Emperor.

"He is," Lorgar smiled. "He told me, when I first came here to see him at his command, that he didn't want me to worship him."

Phaeron raised an eyebrow.

"He does not?" he said. "And you accept this?"

"Well, I listened," the Primarch grinned mischievously. "And had I heard it before that moment, I admit it would have torn at my heart - but a very wise Chaplain spoke to me before I went in."

"And said?" Phaeron asked.

"He said, those who demand worship are not truly worthy of it," Lorgar smiled. "And it's true on retrospect."

Phaeron nodded contemplatively.

"If you say so, my liege," he said. "I will follow your lead."

"Goodnight Phaeron," Lorgar said, still smiling as he entered his room. Phaeron nodded, and frowned. He had expected the Emperor to say something like that, and indeed had been searching for alternative Gods for his Primarch to worship - Lorgar being the type who absolutely _had_ to worship something. He had heard rumpled of Chaps Gods, beings that demanded worship - but it turned out he needn't do any more research.

Still, he would quite like to meet with this... Chaplain.

* * *

Horus, the first Primarch, swore.

Abaddon looked up from cleaning his armour to frown at his Promarch's outburst.

"What's happened?" he asked. Horus gave him a look and Abaddon raised his hands in mock surrender.

"He thinks I'd betray him now," Horus said. "He doesn't trust us."

"Well, if what you said he told you is true, I almost don't blame him," Abaddon said. "It sounds like a war to remember." Horus frowned at him, and he amended that to "in a bad way."

"And you and the Legion just follow me into treachery," Horus mused sourly. "Seriously."

"We are loyal to you first my lord," Abaddon said.

"Well you shouldn't be," Horus snapped. "This is an order Ezekyle; if I ever do what father - the Emperor - said I'd do, kill me. I don't care how and I don't care what I say. If I turn traitor, kill me."

Abaddon looked up, something approaching shock in the First Captain's eyes.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Deadly serious," Horus said. "You are my First Captain and I trust you before anyone. See that my order is carried out."

It took a long time for Ezekyle Abaddon to answer, and when he did, it was but a slow nod.

* * *

_Yan Rill. Captain. Mentor._

Dead.

He was not ashamed.

He should have been. He had embarrassed his Chapter before the God Emperor of Mankind himself. To complicate matters, he had actually argued - _argued_ - with the God-Emperor himself.

Marcus didn't know but Severus suspected that when he did, there'd be pain.

But then again, Severus could be allowed a little leeway. Seeing the Despoiler... it was too much. Knowing what that monster would do in the future, the deaths he would cause, the horror he would inflict... how could any loyal son of the Imperium stand to be in the presence of him, even in this era?

Severus continued his preparation, praying to the God-Emperor he knew now wasn't listening more out of habit than faith. He prayed to return home. He prayed that nothing would have changed, that this was truly an alternate time. He knew in his hearts his prayers were in vain and finally, after an hour trying, failed and gave up.

"Is your faith so weak?" a soft voice said. Severus looked up to see the Emperor at his door. He sighed.

"What's the point?" he asked. "You aren't listening. My Emperor will never exist."

"I think Lorgar would say," a different, cultured voice said, "that faith is it's own reward." Severus smiled at the catechism as Roboute Guilliman, Ultramarines Primarch, stepped into view behind the Emperor.

Severus raised an eyebrow, looking at the Primarch as if he was a figment of his own imagination. He wasn't exactly happy.

"May I ask why he is here?" he asked the Emperor.

Guilliman frowned.

"You have a problem with me?" he asked, before the Emperor could respond.

"No," Severus said sourly. "But the Ultramarines of our time are somewhat... disparaging of us."

"What is future does not concern me," the Emperor interrupted, his tone of voice brooking no argument. "Roboute has already written large portions of the Codex Astartes you mentioned, but lacks the same mindset as your men." The Emperor looked Severus right in the eye. "You will help him complete the tome."

Severus did not ask why the Emperor wanted a Codex Astartes. "I cannot help," he said. "I don't know the Codex as well as that."

"I thought the Codex was standard practice for your time," Guilliman said, slightly accusatory. "I would think any Captain would know it inside out, back to front and sideways."

Severus looked at him, annoyed at the implication of laxness. "I know large portions of it," Severus said, "but those are chiefly related to battle practice of the Space Marine Chapters. There are some elements I never knew and never needed to."

"I only require the battle elements," Guilliman said, "as those were inspired by the events of your... Heresy."

"Not my Heresy," Severus spat. "Horus's."

"Enough!" the Emperor snapped. "Severus, I do not know what the matter is with you and frankly do not care. I have been patient and trusting, but my patience is wearing thin and your attack on Horus's party strained my trust."

"If you knew of what Abaddon the Despoiler was going to do..." Severus began in reply.

"He will do nothing," the Emperor said. "We are averting the rebellion. Now. You will work in harmony with my men and that includes Abaddon and Guilliman."

Guilliman looked at the Emperor, then at Severus, with a strange expression in his eyes. Severus ignored it and saluted the Emperor, and he and Guillman walked out.

"What is it that Abaddon does?" the Primarch asked. Severus didn't answer. "I would like to know."

"Thieteen Crusades," Severus replied softly. "The Black Crusades. Foray's into Imperial space, murdering countless billions."

Guilliman said nothing as they walked, but the strange light had returned to his eye. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors note.**

If you're interested in more information on my Chapter, the Revenants, look them up at warhammer40kfanon dot wikia dot com.

This Chapter has been edited since initial posting.

And now, the continuation. 

* * *

"...and they never deviate from it?"

Roboute Guilliman looked horrified. Captain Severus almost laughed at the incongruity of it; the Ultramarines had revered the Codex Astartes for millennia and never veered from it's words, but their Primarch actually didn't agree with it.

"Do they even change it?" he asked. Severus shrugged at the Primarch. He wasn't an expert on Codex. Guilliman was busy writing up some military elements of the Codex Astartes.

"I don't keep up to date with any updates," he said. "I use the Codex as a guideline, like most Chapters."

"But it is useful?" Guilliman asked. Amazingly, he looked a little worried.

"Pretty much fixed the Imperium, if you believe the tales," Severus assured him. He'd never had to deal with an insecure Primarch. He'd never had to deal with a Primarch, to be fair.

"Well, I've got the basic writings down," Guilliman said. "Can't say I understand why having only a thousand troops per Chapter is intelligent."

"You haven't lived through the Heresy yet," Severus said in reply.

"And never will, hopefully," the Primarch finished. Severus nodded in agreement.

"It was a foul moment in the history of the Imperium," he said. "And it forever sundered the Space Marines from their kin."

"Even though we are preventing it by your presence," Guilliman said, "I confess a frustration that my Legion could not help."

"Your Legion held the Imperium together," Severus replied quickly. "The Ultramarines of my time may be stuck up prigs, but we recognise what they did for us."

Guilliman nodded in gratitude, a small smile forming before he got back to his work, and Severus smiled too.

* * *

They were capricious, malign, unknowable, powerful, deadly creations, the worst things that had ever come into being. Nothing quite covered their existence, nothing quite explained their nature. To have simply claimed "they are evil" would have been a simplification. How could they be merely _evil_, as limited and human a term as it was? Not even the youngest of then was that. They were a force of nature, and nature was not bound by human, Eldar, Necrontyr or any other morality.

It was not a good idea to annoy them, let us say. They were annoyed. What annoyed them was the fact that the war they'd been planning to incite among those Human things that had appeared several somethings or so simply wasn't happening. The champion they had picked was somehow off the road they had so carefully laid. Khorne, typically, enacted some sort of daemonic violence, Slaanesh had sex with a few random demonettes (annihilating their essence in the process; dissolution by sex however was their idea of 'a great way to go', so it was alright). Nurgle invented a new form of plague - he wasn't worried. Typhon was his already at least. Tzeentch was, as ever, unflappable.

They did not talk. They were beyond such mortal concerns. However they did confer in a way; an odd way, but a way. And in their conferring, they agreed; time for a new plan.

All they ever needed was the smallest seed of doubt.

* * *

Sanguinius stood upon a balcony, looking out upon the world of Terra. His wings were folded up softly behind him and he wore a simple robe.

Behind him, standing as if waiting for a sign, stood , Vulkan and Lion El'Jonson. All four looked troubled. Eventually, Sanguinius turned to look at the other Primarchs.

"Hearing this news - this oracle message from the future - is troubling," he murmured.

"To say the least," Corax said, Lion nodding softly. "My very soul feels as though it lies under a shadow."

"I agree," the Lion said. "It's a terrible thought, that any of is could just... turn like that."

"Horus has always been proud," Vulkan said slowly. "It has always been so, that pride is the greatest downfall of great men."

"And few are greater than Horus," Sanguinius admitted, "but I still find it hard to imagine."

"That a man of his calibre can turn?" a new voice said, startling them. Konrad Curze stepped from the shadows an looked at his brothers. For a moment, the future traitor and the eternal loyalists looked at one another, and then Konrad Curze smiled.

"Be at peace," he said, echoing the Emperor. "You're here to discuss what we know."

"We know nine of us will turn," Corax said, giving Konrad a glare. "Including you."

"I was troubled," Konrad said, " but speaking to our father like we did... I don't know, it feels like a lifted weight."

"I know what you mean," Sanguinius said. "I had few issues, but there were tensions in that room that seemed to dissipate."

"Who knew Guilliman had issues though," Corax smiled. Then he stopped. A frown crossed his features. "What father told us about the heresy got me thinking though."

"About what?" Konrad asked.

"Whether we harbour tainted warriors in our armies still," Corax explained. "That those who followed us followed us..."

"Not us brother," Konrad said. "The Emperor said, you remained loyal."

"But if I had not?" Corax asked. "The power that we wield is great, brethren."

"Great for a reason," the Lion reminded him. "If it were not, what could we do with them?"

"But those men, separated from our command, would not follow us in our treachery," Corax replied, "and a smaller number of Space Marines would be less of a problem for the Imperium than half the legions."

"He speaks truth," Sanguinius said. "Ten thousand warriors answerable to one. That cannot stand."

"Well then," another voice put in, "it's a good job we're sorting that problem, isn't it?"

The Emperor stepped into the little balcony room, smiling briefly at each of them. "I'm sending you all back out in a few days, but I wanted to be the first to talk to you about a change that we're making to the organisation of the Space Marine legions.

"What change?" Vulkan asked.

The Emperor told them. Konrad Curze raised an eyebrow, Vulkan and the Lion looked shocked, Corax thoughtful and Sanguinius was nodding his head.

"I'm sorry," Vulkan said, "but _what_ did you say, father?"

* * *

When Severus and Marcus walked into the throne room later that day at the Emperor's summons, they were met by a scene of unimaginable pandemonium; the Primarchs were arguing. Leman Russ and Magnus were in each other's faces, Roboute Guilliman and Rogal Dorn were having a shouting match, while Lorgar and Night Haunter seemed to be furiously debating something. Mortarion and Perturabo stood at one side of the room, shaking their heads, and at the top of the room, standing by Horus and Sanguinius, looking tired but resolute, stood the Emperor. Severus and Marcus' entrance caused the entire room to look at them, and the Emperor smiled.

"Come here, you two," he said.

Severus shared a glance with Marcus, who nodded, and together, they marched, heads held high, towards the Master of mankind. When they reached him, they kneeled as one, and spoke as one.

"We live to serve!" their voices spoke. The Emperor looked up at Lorgar, Dorn, and Leman Russ.

"I present my evidence that this plan will work," he said with a smile. "Devoted warriors from an Imperium that has lasted ten millennia."

Both M41 Marines knew what the Emperor and the Primarchs must have been discussing; the breaking of the Legions up into smaller Chapters. This had presented problems for the Imperium they knew as well, but that Imperium had not had the Emperor to guide it.

Leman Russ studied them unabashed, while Lorgar looked at the Chaplain and bowed his head. Rogal Dorn, for the life of him, looked ashamed.

"I will have to meditate on this decision," Rogal said, turning to leave.

"Very well," the Emperor said. "But remember what you promises, Rogal."

Dorm hesitated, but walked out anyway.

"I too will debate on the wisdom of this," Leman Russ said. He too walked out. The Emperor turned his gaze on Angron of the World Eaters, a great hulking figure, who had surprisingly stayed out of the arguing.

"Angron?" he asked.

The hulking warrior shrugged. "The more spread out we are, the more killing we can do," he said, softly enough for a warrior. Mortarion, the pale Death Guard Primarch, nodded in agreement.

"My legion will accept these changes," he said, throwing a quick glance at Horus. The Emperor caught it, and looked to Horus, who sighed.

"While it irks me to split my legion," he admitted frankly, to Roboute Guilliman's apparent annoyance judging by the slight frown, "I will comply with my brother's Codex. And I'm sure Iacton will be glad that he gets to have Luna Wolves still when I change the Legion's name."

Magnus the Red merely nodded. Perturabo on the other hand, smiled grimly.

"As long as my men get to fight wars other than those in sieges, I'll be glad o it," he said. "And me too."

Sanguinius nodded as well, and Night Haunter's smile was wider than any might have thought possible: he seemed genuinely pleased by the results of this.

The young Alpharius, however, was less pleased.

"My Legion has only just got used to what it does now," he said. "You can't expect us to change again so quickly."

"Alpharius," Horus said, "I think it's for the best." The Emperor gave Horus a strange look, but Alpharius nodded.

"I will have to think, but I expect I'll agree in the end," he said, walking out. That left Ferrus, Corax and Vulkan (who all agreed after some cajoling), Lion El'Jonson (who nodded grimly and smiled), Fulgrim, who agreed readily, Jaghatai Khan, who assented grudgingly, and Lorgar. Lorgar looked from the Chaplain to the Emperor, then back again, ad finally bowed his head.

"I will assent to this," he said.

Guilliman looked surprised at this. "You were one of the most vocal opponents," he said. "You said that your force was more efficient as it is."

"That is true Roboute," Lorgar admitted, "but let us say... I have faith in your plan."

Guilliman said nothing, but looked to the Emperor for approval. The Emperor smiled, and dismissed them all save Severus and Marcus.

"Thank you, Marines," he said. "Without your help that might have been messy."

"We are happy to serve, my Emperor," Severus replied, saying nothing of their previous argument. The Emperor's smile grew wider, and Severus heard a voice in his mind. _Worry not. I'm a big boy now; I can take the insults of one angry Marine._

Grateful, Severus nodded. The Emperor placed a hand upon each Marine's shoulder; they both felt a slight energising sensation, a galvanising sense of purpose.

"I want your Company to meet me in the hall, full parade turnout, tomorrow at 18.00," the Emperor said. "For a special ceremony."

The two looked at each other in confusion, but nodded to the Emperor, bowed, saluted and left.

* * *

Magnus and his squad - lead by Sergeant Nathaniel - marched into the hall behind Sergeant Delon's squad.

"What do you think?" his Battle Brother Caradon asked. "About this?"

"I dunno," Magnus said truthfully.

"This hall is pretty big," Caradon pointed out. "Could hold an army in it."

"We are an army," Sergeant Nathaniel said. "And we'll be an army with two less soldiers if you two don't shut up."

They did so, and watched the Emperor of Mankind ascend the podium at the front of the hall. He was looking more the part now - gone the simple robe, and on a set of ceremonial Power Armour, golden and antiquated.

"Revenants," he said. "Words cannot express how much you have saved the Imperium, merely by your presence. Though a seemingly random chance, it has allowed our Imperium to come back from the brink. I thank you."

"Yet," he continued, "you are Space Marines. Your duty is your life. Without it, you are nothing..."

"We are nothing," the assorted Marines repeated; the Emperor had unknowingly misquoted a prayer, and triggered the response. Fortunately, he realised this.

"That is why I have good news for you. Your Primarch, Rogal Dorn, has a gift for you, his time lost sons. To you," he said, as the rear door opened behind them, "he gives your Chapter, and five hundred of his newest recruits to turn into your future."

The Marines about faced as a force of Space Marines entered the hall, armoured in Corvus and Maximus armour painted in the colours of the Revenants - admittedly, some l them had painted it a bit too brightly in places and the Chapter symbol, a skull with green eyes, was the wrong shape, but before the new Marines could even finish the ceremonial salutes, the M41 Revenants cheered, and shouted praise to Dorn and the God Emperor. The new Revenants followed their Brothers leads, and soon the entire new chapter - 586 Marines all told - were celebrating, caught up in a brotherly euphoria.

"Thank you," Severus said to the God Emperor of Mankind, whether he admitted it or not - for this was truly a miracle.

"Don't thank me," the Emperor retorted to him, slapping a symbol - a silver Aquila - on the left side of Severus' chest. "You're going to have a lot of work to do in the days ahead... Chapter Master Severus." 


	10. Chapter 10

Authors note. Since I got a really good review from Partysane on the last Chapter and I can't reply to an unsigned review, I'm forced to make my reply - one I believe is earned - here.

I'm afraid to say that no, I have no beta, and I have never looked for one (because releasing my work on someone elses time frame doesn't appeal to me I'm sorry to say). Typos are an unfortunate reality of my work, hampered by typing on an IPhone, rather than a computer. They jar me as much as anyone, but periodically I look through my work and revise chapters of it.

As for your suggestion of dialogues between the new Revenants and the M41 models... well, suffice it to say, already been considered, as you'll see in this chapter. Thank you for reading and I hope you - and the rest of my readers - will enjoy this next chapter.

Additional note; the name Gamma Dragons is derived from a Chapter created by Primarch11 of warhammer40kfanon dot wikia dot com, with his kind permission.

* * *

**From the Imperial Records, M36, on the Second Founding.**

It was a time of change for the mighty Imperium the Emperor had built. None know quite what instigated it, but all knew it's result. The ten thousand strong Legions of Marines, for so long a force of conquest alone, were divided into Chapters - thousand strong armies of Marines, designed to operate autonomously under a Chapter Master, answerable only to the Emperor himself, assigned at his will or their Master's. Luna Wolves became the Sons of Horus, and the name Luna Wolves became that of a separate Chapter, as well as the Scions of Terra. The Imperial Fists gave rise to the Revenants, the Black Templars and the Crimson Fists. The Alpha Legion gave rise to the Beta Knights, Gamma Dragons and the Delta Marines. The Ultramarines spawned the Novamarines, Mortifactors, and a dozen others. And so it goes.

* * *

Jared Severus looked upon his home world with eyes that shone. Peace was even more beautiful than he remembered, and to look upon his home filled Severus with an intangible sense of _home_, despite the fact that they were further from home than Severus had ever been.

"The planet was confirmed compliant a century ago," Severus' aid, a young newly minted Revenant Marine named Takis, said, arriving with a data chart. "Pacifistic philosophers, scholars, and the bare minimum of Soldiers contributed." The young Marine looked up, a frown showing on his face. "Are you sure this is the right place, milord?"

"I'm certain," Severus said, not entirely patiently - Takis was a good Marine, just not a good example of a Revenant - and he turned around to face his aid. "Don't presume anything about this world. It may not be the perfect example of a war-loving Imperial planet but its people are honourable."

"I accept your wisdom in this matter, milord," Takis murmured, bowing. He was a good man, and no doubt would serve well. "I have your dropship prepared for your meeting with the people's Council of Peace."

"Thank you, Takis," Severus said. "Have Sergeant Nathaniel and his squad meet myself and Chaplain Marcus at the dropship, once Marcus has concluded his prayers."

Severus thought he could detect a faint frown on Takis' face, but it swiftly vanished when the Marine saluted and left. Severus sighed. Try as the new Revenants might, few could comprehend _everything_ about the M41 Marines. Few could even try.

Especially not the praying.

* * *

"We are the Emperor's Sword."

"We will never break."

"We are humanity's shield."

"We will never buckle."

"We are the champions of mankind."

"We will never back down."

"We are the heralds of civilisation."

"We will never falter."

"We are the Angels of Death."

"We will never fear."

Chaplain Marcus had created that prayer himself. No specific religious undertones, merely a message with a tiny bit of faith thrown in. Safer that way. The Marines, having finished the prayers, left in an orderly fashion, leaving Marcus to his thoughts.

He had recently begun a correspondence with Erebus, Senior Chaplain of the Word Bearer's successors, the Zealous Sons. Erebus had contacted him shortly after the formation of his own Chapter, apparently on the instruction of Lorgar, and the two often shared nuggets of wisdom about faith.

Marcus had looked up the records on Erebus - since the man was a Word Bearer by blood, Marcus felt that caution was prudent. However, the discussions the men had showed no sign of taint, and Marcus had been a Chaplain long enough to know the smell when he met it, at least in his own opinion. Erebus did not smell like such a traitor.

"Marcus?" a voice came into the sanctum, and the Chaplain turned to see Takis looking at him. "The Chapter Master requires your presence at the dropship."

Marcus still had trouble thinking of his Captain as Chapter Master, as much as he had trouble thinking of himself as the senior Chaplain - and, he reminded himself, the one responsible for putting the Doctrine into practice, editing the thing _and_ writing a sacred copy to be kept sacrosanct. Not to mention he would have to start strapping the book on his back as well.

"Tell him I am on my way," the Chaplain said. He double checked everything, and then turned to leave.

He stopped, and turned. For a moment, he thought he could hear a voice. Then he dismissed it as his own imagination.

"Getting old, Marcus," he said softly.

* * *

"Well," Severus said, smiling at his old friend as the Chaplain came into view. "Are we ready to get underway?"

"As ever, Chapter Master," said Marcus, his skull helm affixed to his belt. Severus smiled as the two Marines and the Tactical squad entered the dropship.

"I admit myself eager to see Peace," Marcus confided, as the dropship descended. "It'll be a welcome reminder of home."

"I'd rather have the one we remember," Sergeant Varl put in. Severus grimaced at the Sergeant's bluntness, but nodded.

"How are the men holding up?" Severus asked Varl.

"Well, forgive me if I'm blunt sir," Varl put in, "but the men feel... somewhat out of place. The Chapter has yet to organise, their Captain appears to be getting promoted, and nothing here is quite how we remember it. So naturally the Brothers are disjointed."

"Such feelings are natural," Marcus said. "I have no doubt that they will fade in time."

"I hope they do," Severus said, a slight frown furrowing his features. "It is all well and good being disjointed, Varl, but we are Marines. We are creatures of duty first."

"It's all well and good saying that my lord, but what is our duty here?" Varl asked.

"The same as always, Brother Sergeant," Marcus answered before Severus could respond. "Serve the Emperor. Defend the Imperium." 


	11. Chapter 11

Severus stepped off the dropship ramp and into the courtyard of Peace's Capital, the Paxus Maximus. In Severus' time the Paxus Maximus was filled with dusty buildings, black flags and a general sense of depression; a mourning for life as it was in the forty first millennium.

Here though...

The Paxus was a place of light, flags bearing the Imperial Aquila flying all over the place. Severus was almost confused for a moment, but banished that confusion as a grey haired, patriarchal looking gentleman approached the dropship, with four ceremonial swordsmen behind him.

"Hail," the man said. "I am Governor Saul. Welcome to Peace."

"I am Chapter Master Severus," Severus replied, "of the Revenants Chapter. This," he said, gesturing to Marcus, "is Senior Chaplain Marcus."

"We are honoured by the presence of the Astartes," Saul said. "Please, gentlemen, come with us."

Saul led the Space Marines down, away from the main square ad towards a large, ornate building - the Tower of Philosophy. An old relic in Severus' time, it was bright and wondrous here.

"Governor," Severus said, "there are some things we would like to discuss with you..."

"And I with you," the Governor said, a slightly colder tone coming into his voice as the group walked up the stairs. "But it can wait until we are away from the crowds. They're celebrating you being here as a sign the Emperor approves of us."

"Why should he not?" Marcus asked.

"Do you know anything about our world?" Saul snapped as they entered the Tower, the sudden tone confusing Severus slightly. "We hate warfare, and his Empire is built on it."

The governor sighed, as they walked into a large briefing room. He indicated that the Marines should sit, but Severus declined.

"I apologise if I seem a little... harsh," Saul said. "You know little of us."

"We know that you view war as horrid," Marcus said. "A necessity at best, a reality of a harsh universe, but an unwelcome one all the same."

Saul looked surprised.

"Yes, Chaplain," he said. "Your research has done you credit. But that is not the first thing we should discuss."

Saul looked Severus right in the eye.

"You cannot recruit here," he said bluntly. Severus raised an eyebrow at this. Many Astartes he knew would have struck the Governor - fatally - for those words, but Severus had been born in this culture. That course of action was barbaric and would solve nothing.

"Why may we not?" he asked, quietly.

"Because your Astartes - as honourable as you no doubt are," Saul said, hedging slightly, "are warriors, dedicated to the honour and glory of conflict. That is not our way and I would not have the children of Peace aspire to be one of you when you are anathema to us..."

Saul trailed off and frowned as he saw the smile on Severus' face.

"What?" the governor asked. "Have I said something funny?"

"You assume too much," Marcus said, no amusement in his tone. Severus threw him a look, but Marcus continued. "To judge all from one is wrong. 'You cannot judge one from another's standards.'"

Saul looked surprised to hear a Space Marine quote what was one of Peace's great tenets. Severus smiled; they had an even greater surprise in store for him.

"Show him the Doctrine, Marcus," he said. Marcus nodded, and slung a small book - the pages of which he had filled on the journey here, in lieu of sleeping - and handed it reverently to Saul, who opened it, confused. The book contained the sum total of all the knowledge of training schemes and tactics the Revenants used (at least, those they used that were not already covered in the Codex Astartes: that element of the Doctrine of Peace was like a supplementary piece). Saul flipped through until eventually (with a little help from Severus, who told him where to look) he found Marcus' masterpiece; calligraphy of swirling letters and ornate imagery and firm, bold writing combined to create the page wherein was written the Doctrine of the Revenants Chapter. Saul read, and a smile slowly formed on his face.

"You are the Astartes my world needs," he said softly. "You understand."

Severus smiled.

"That is why we were sent here, Governor," he said.

* * *

Magnus was in an unusual position. There stood in this room fifty two full Brothers of the Revenants Chapter, including Veteran Sergeant Varl, all in full power armour, minus helms. Of them, he was the youngest.

Of them, he knew the most about being a Revenant. The other fifty Marines were Imperial Fist imports, and they were - to be fair - failing miserably at being Revenants.

There were three things expected of a Revenant Marine from the moment they wore Powered Armour. That the Marine know the Doctrine word for word. That the Marine understand the words. That the Marine believe the words.

Only the first seemed possible for the Import Marines.

"You," Varl said, pointing at an Import Marine. "Section four of the Doctrine. Repeat."

"All of our enemies, even those of the foul legions of Chaos, deserve nothing more or less than our pity," the Marine recited flawlessly.

"Good recitation," the Sergeant said. "Explain why."

"Because they have become the lowest of the low, monsters beyond redemption, and have nothing left in life but the death we are about to give them," the Marine said, with no hesitation. "And I am aware that is not the answer you are looking for, Brother Sergeant."

"If you were aware, why did you Give me a_ wrong_," Varl emphasised the word almost painfully, "answer at all then?"

"Because it was the only answer I could give, Sergeant," the Marine admitted.

"At least you tried," Varl conceded. "But you are _all_," he yelled, including the entire Import Marine group, "still thinking like Imperial Fists. You need to start acting like Revenants."

"Why?" one Marine asked. "Why should we?"

Varl gave the Marine a cold look.

"Our legion has countless battle honours," the Import Marine said. "We are the Emperor's finest."

"You're nothing but a brainless butcher then," Varl said, harshly. "Kill, kill, blow up, maim, kill... dress it up as honour or duty or glory all you like Marine. Your life is death."

To his credit, the Import Marine frowned at Varl.

"Then what is yours?" he asked.

Varl smiled.

"Do you know what a Revenant is?" he asked the room. No one answered. Finally, Varl turned to brother Magnus. "Brother?"

"A Revenant is one who has returned from death," Magnus said at once.

"So," the Sergeant said. "How does that relate to us."

"To humanity, we are dead," Magnus replied. "We can never again be part of humanity."

"We are the dead," Varl said. "A morose thought, but one with an underlying element of truth in it." He turned to the Import Marine. "What is your name?"

"Battle Brother Sarpon," the Marine replied.

"And how old are you?" Varl asked.

"One hundred and two," Sarpon said.

"And how old are you, Magnus?" Varl asked.

"Thirty one, Sergeant," Magnus replied.

"Well, Sarpon," Varl said with a grin. "If someone a third of your age can understand the Doctrine and the Revenants' way, what say we place you under his tutelage?"

Sarpon looked horrified, but Varl grinned. "Yes, that sounds perfect. I'll inform Sergeant Nathaniel of your transfer."

Sarpon swore, and Magnus had to suppress the urge to grin. This would be... interesting. 


	12. Chapter 12

Three months of yester-year had passed, a long, slow grind while the Revenants sought to transform themselves into the Chapter that 80 of them knew they could be.

The Fortress monastery was nothing of the sort yet. It was merely an STC construct, a portable stronghold with basic supplies and a mess hall, with a set of about five Chapel-Barracks' a short way away, an Armoury a little further with the majority of the Revenants current allowance of weaponry and a few dozen turrets deployed for defensive purposes. A temporary location only, while the real Fortress-Monastery was being built. Although the place was being slowly built up, 600 Marines had to fit in the temporary base in the meantime: no mean feat. Meanwhile, Varl had requested permission to start organising the recruitment drive.

Busy with other things Severus had agreed. His staff - the Captains under his command, and wasn't _that_ something he hadn't been expecting for another century - were eager to begin going to war, but Severus wanted to wait until the Marines under his command felt less like Imperial Fists and more like Revenants.

Why did it feel like it was going to be a long wait?

Varl had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he doubted this generation would ever be Revenants in the same way the M41 Marines were. In a way, Severus felt guilty; he was trying to force two thousand years worth of history and development on Marines who walked such a different path as for it to be impossible.

"Sir?" Takis asked. Severus looked up, and sighed.

"Yes, Takis?" he asked.

"The Emperor sends a command," the Marine said. Severus frowned.

"What is the Emperor's Command?" he asked.

"To meet with him upon his landing," Takis said. "He will be arriving at our Fortress-Monastery within the hour and coming to speak with you."

"He's coming here?" Severus said, his breath hitching slightly. In the four months since he had seen the Emperor last, the memories had faded slightly from prominence and his general awe of the God-Emperor had once again taken over. He mastered himself. "If he is coming straight here, I presume it's a private matter?"

"I believe that he said something along those lines, milord," Takis said. Severus dismissed him, and called Marcus up.

This was unusual, and unusual was bad.

* * *

Scout-Armoured Marines ran through a series of obstacle courses, while tranq-dart repeated turrets fired at them from targets. The Scouts fired back, disciplined enough after a few months training to hit what they were firing at. Conditioned enough after the first operations to put the tranquillised Marines into cover. But it was a rare Scout who showed the Marine he could become on that field.

Revenants Scouts never went to war; it was wrong to send such children to die in such a horrible manner as men did on that field. Instead, a Revenant Marine trained and trained and trained, and only after years of drills were they assigned - with full implants - to a squad, there to gain first hand experience while being supported by Veterans. It was the only true deviation from the Codex Astartes that the Revenants had ever done, but it was still a deviation; one that had damned them in the eyes of many.

Varl sighed as he watched the trainees run through their paces.

"Good lot but they could be better," he commented. "Not sharp enough, too sluggish. Next time, up the number of targeters on the course."

"Or we could assign them to active duty," a Space Marine Captain said. Varl looked at the Captain - an Import Marine by the name of Iantus - with a glare that made the higher-ranking Marine almost quail.

"The Cap - the Chapter Master," Varl said, correcting his urge to call Severus 'the Captain', "has decreed that we shall follow the Doctrine, and the Doctrine..."

"'The Doctrine' is the biggest pile of horse dung I've ever read," Captain Iantus said dismissively. "Why the Chapter Master uses it is beyond me. Why he's even Chapter Master is beyond me," the Import Marine added in an undertone. Varl turned and decked him on the spot, and Iantus looked up at him in shock and anger.

"Ever insult that man again," Varl said, "and I will break you into so many pieces that you'll need _two_ Dreadnoughts. Clear?"

"The Chapter Master will hear about this," Iantus promised with a snarl.

"I'm sure," Varl said, turning back to watch the Scouts. "More cover in the third section, it's too exposed," the Sergeant added to his aid as Iantus walked away.

* * *

The Emperor was dressed in his finest golden Terminator armour when Severus met him in the forest near the Fortress Monastery. The armour looked a little battered and scuffed, and Severus gave the Master of Mankind a quizzical look, even as he dropped to his knees.

The Emperor gave him a tired smile and gestured to him to stand. "Been crusading again. Horus had the Luna Wolves on patrol near the Saq Cluster, turned out there was a bunch of random Empires there; next thing you know, Horus has the Sons, the Luna's and the Scions invading, and then they need support, so I..."

"My lord," Severus said, "you are rambling."

"I know," the Emperor said. "Fact is, I need your help."

Severus stood up.

"There's something wrong with the Imperium still," the Emperor said. " I cannot help but think that some great threat is on it's way, and your Chaplain are senior officers: you know the threats we have to face in detail."

"I told you..." Severus began.

"You sketched an outline, when I need Inks and Colours," the Emperor said. "Tell me all the threats you can think of, everything you can possibly come up with."

Severus blinked, and considered it for a long moment.

"Come with me," he said at last. "I'll tell you the three threats I know for certain you'll have to face."

* * *

Techmarine "Mechnus" Malachi brought up a holo of the known galaxy in the Revenants' briefing room. He was fairly augmented but not too much. Opposite him stood Severus, Marcus and the Emperor Himself; if Malachi was worried by the Emperor's presence in any way, he did not show it.

"This," he said, pointing at the holo, "is all we know of the galaxy." His voice was slightly tinny, but manageable to the honed human ear. "Now, if memory serves..." a series of planetary systems turned red, "these are all Necron Worlds."

"Necron?" the Emperor asked. A different holo came up, showing a standard Necron Warrior.

"Unknown machine xenos species," Malachi said. "Armed with Gauss Weaponry and..."

"Thank you, Malachi," Severus said. "Suffice it to say, they're nasty; kill and where possible avoid and just burn their worlds."

The holo of the galaxy, complete with reddened Necron worlds, came up again. The Emperor studied it with a tacticians eye.

"Some of these are inhabited," he said, "but relocation is possible."

"The Tyranids are an outside threat," Malachi said. "As far as your records go I do not believe they have yet to threaten the Imperium."

"How should we go about defending against them?" the Emperor asked. He didn't want to ask about Tyranids. What little he remembered from Severus' talk was enough.

"I'd advise extremely heavy fleet deployment," Malachi said. "Every sector that we know has been targeted in our time..." and here the highlights were black, across a gulf of Eastern Space, "is listed. Ideally, you'd evacuate the entire eastern fringe and stuff it full of auto gun turrets and Servitors, but that's untenable."

"Guilliman would never condone abandoning Ultramar without a fight," the Emperor said shrewdly. "But... I think I have a plan." An odd, risky plan, based on a hunch, but it would just about work.

"And finally," Malachi said, "the Tau."

A smattering of dark blue appeared in a distant eastern spiral arm. Severus smiled.

"The Tau are the least of these threats," the Techmarine said. "Exterminate their homeworld, and those of the Kroot and Vespids, and you'll have successfully annihilated them prior to them even being a threat."

The Emperor nodded.

"Very well," he said. "But there is one problem you gentlemen have yet to address."

"Which is, my lord?" Malachi said. Severus had a sneaking suspicion he knew, confirmed when the Emperor said one, small word. Two syllables. Five letters.

"Chaos." 


	13. Chapter 13

**Five months later...**

The world would one day hold a civilised species, one that sought out the greater good in all things, and desired to work together towards that common good. The world would one day be the cradle of an empire, an empire of optimism, hope and understanding (at least, an empire that claimed to be one of optimism, hope and understanding. The truth was hardly that simple).

Except that now it wouldn't. And perhaps that was for the best. What optimism could survive in that cosmos, a cosmos dominated by death and violence and a pantheon of Gods whose only desire was destruction?

It irked Khorne to see the world burn under Imperial guns, and Nurgle would miss the diseases. Slaanesh found the alien sexual practices entertaining and was annoyed that he/she/it was denied watching them further, and Tzeentch sighed as another future shifted beyond possibility, a future he had looked forward to seeing: it promised change.

The four had argued, warred, discussed, disagreed, agreed, disagreed again and yet still, despite their disharmony their plan was working closely towards it's beginning. It was a complicated plan - Tzeentch's influence - with bloodshed and corruption galore, perfect for Khorne, Slaanesh and Nurgle alike.

The anomaly - the one the humans called "Emperor" - was wising up more and more to their cunning, insidious nature. They knew him by many banes. "The Immune," "The Anathema," and "the Deviance," among others. He was a tricky beast, something they truly didn't understand, but that they feared. If they didn't understand him then he was immune to the corrupting influences of Chaos, which made him their greatest threat.

And threats had to be eliminated.

* * *

Captain Manekis Bremlic of the Gamma Dragons looked upon the burning of a world with dispassionate eyes.

"I trust the sight isn't too unpleasant?" the Emperor said from next to him. He was resplendent in his armour: merely power armour this time round, but still impressive.

"No," Bremlic said. "I do wonder why this world needs burning. The life forms aren't even sapient yet."

Senior Chaplain Mecanicil, standing next to Bremlic, tilted his head. "We are clearly not going to be colonising."

"No," the Emperor said. "There would be no point, this world will be surrounded by a warp storm soon enough."

Bremlic looked at Mecanicil. Mecanicil merely smiled as the Emperor went off to check something on a console.

"I _told_ you," he said. "His will is omnipotent."

"He's always telling us to not call him a God," Bremlic said, frowning.

"The truly divine clearly would," Mecanicil said smugly. "It's just as Erebus said."

* * *

Horus Aximand, Chapter Master of the Scions of Terra looked down at the information slate as yet another world was evacuated. The Chapter had been here for five months overseeing the total evacuation of Wailon, a possible Nee-Crone (whatever they were) homeworld. He had no idea why they were abandoning the planet instead of seeking the Nee-Crones out and exterminating them but hey: what could you do? He was a Space Marine, of the Adeptus Astartes. His not to reason why.

Overseeing the evacuation and destruction of the world properly was Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines, who was currently deep in discussion with a White Consuls Captain and a Black Consuls Captain. Aximand neither knew nor cared what they were talking about.

Guilliman walked over to him. "Aximand," he said. "How is the evacuation going?"

"Estimates place it at eighty five percent complete," Aximand replied. "But I'm still not sure why we're evacuating. These Nee-Crones..."

"Necrons," Guilliman corrected him.

"Fine Necrons - they can't be that tough."

Guilliman looked grim. "I've had a talk with the Emperor on this subject, as it happens. Though he won't tell me the exact nature of the threat, he does insist that this is the best course of action we can take."

Aximand looked unconvinced, but nodded. The Emperor had gone back to leading crusades, helping out and generally being the kind of Emperor he was in the good old days, quashing many of the whispers that he had abandoned the crusaders. Aximand personally thought that the Emperor ought to go govern, but there were regents for that.

* * *

Severus went through the latest reports. Another fifty aspirant Marines had begun the training, another twenty had been placed in Power Armour.

Techmarine Malachi had reported that several Techpriests had finalised production on Mars of Mark VII armour for the enter Astartes, which meant that Severus could get his armour suitably fixed up, something he was happy about.

Chaplain Marcus had little to say for himself, save a report that there were several aspirant Marines having nightmares - nightmares that set them apart as potential Psykers... Severus had known this might be a problem as Venefus - the Fourth Company's lamented Librarian - had been dead for almost a year now. Still, he had sent a request to those he knew could help.

One thing that bothered him was the attitude many Import Officers had developed over the months; that the Doctrine of Peace was weak, and the Chapter was working beneath itself by adopting it. And more worryingly, that Severus was unfit to command. Severus supposed that he should have expected it; who was he and where had he come from? Where had the Revenants come from?

He had summoned the leader of the movement to his office. He would soon get to the bottom of this.

Brother Captain Iantus stepped forward through the door. He was a more experienced warrior, according to his record, than Severus was, which might explain his resentment at not being Chapter Master. It did not explain the openness of that resentment. A Space Marines swore loyalty to his Chapter and his Chapter Master. To break that loyalty was true heresy, of the worst kind.

"My Lord," Iantus said, contempt in his voice.

"Mind your tone," Severus said. "Your words have gotten you into some trouble, Iantus."

"Is that so?" the Captain asked, unconcerned.

"Frequently," Severus said, "you have been heard to disparage the Doctrine, the Chapter... and my leadership." The Chapter Master looked up at Iantus. "Any excuses?"

"None," Iantus said.

"Any other words?"

"I'm sure there will be no significant punishment," Iantus sneered. "You'll take pity on me and wax lyrical about how uncivilised it would be to punish me like you'd have the Chapter do with the Emperor's enemies..."

Severus stood up and punched him, snarling. "The enemy are Xenos and heretics!" he snapped. "They know no better! And we may pity them their ignorance, but we will still kill them. You are Astartes," he added, as Iantus threw a punch, which Severus caught. "A Space Marine's duty is loyalty, and his loyalty is to his brothers. You have shown no such loyalty."

"You are not my brother," snarled Iantus. Severus kicked him into a wall.

"I am your superior," he said. "And you have attacked me, verbally and now physically. You have attempted to undermine my authority with the Chapter. You have, in short, betrayed me, and through me you have betrayed the Imperium. I don't think you have left me any recourse."

Severus took a deep breath. "You are banished from the Chapter, exiled from our ranks, along with any who wish to accompany you."

Iantus's eyes widened, shock bleeding in.

"But... but... I have served the Emperor loyally for centuries!" he said, disbelief laced through his voice.

"I know," Severus said sadly. "And I almost understand why you did what you did. But I must be strong."

"I... I am a servant of the Emperor... I know nothing else," Iantus said, as plaintively as a Space Marine had ever said. Severus' cold face softened.

"Then I will offer some small comfort," he said. "You may return in fifty years. If, after that time, you have come to understand the Doctrine of Peace and why we adopt it, you may retake your place in our ranks."

Iantus' eyes narrowed.

"How am I to come to this understanding?" he asked.

"That I leave to you," Severus said. "Now you must depart."

"Does your Doctrine contain a ritual for casting warriors out?" Iantus said.

"It never had to," Severus said. "It's never happened before."

Iantus nodded, and turned to leave. Severus sighed as the former Imperial Fist walked out. He knew he'd probably never see the Marine again. He wouldn't try to learn. Severus had the horrible feeling he was creating the first renegade... but regulations were clear.

* * *

Chaplain Marcus was waiting for him when he got to the main landing pad. The Chaplain's unmasked face was grim.

"Iantus?" he asked. Severus shook his head. The Chaplain sighed. "I knew there was a problem. I should have helped him acclimatise."

"You can't help those who don't want help," Severus said. "Our guests?"

"Inbound," Marcus said. "You're sure about this?"

"He's the best at his job," Severus said.

"He's also one of... _them_," Marcus said, referring to those legions that should have turned traitor.

"That will never happen," Severus said. "That future is dead."

A Thunderhawk gunship began a landing descent, catching the eyes of the two Marines. It was red, with a rather abstract circular symbol on it.

"I hope you're right," Marcus said as the gunship landed and the ramp descended, allowing them to see the passenger.

A red skinned, one eyed giant in unpainted armour, upon which were three Chapter symbols; that of the Red Cyclops, that of the Warp Slayers, and that of the Thousand Sons.

"Chapter Master Severus," Magnus the Red said, warmly, a smile upon his face. "The man whose arrival saved my brothers and I from damnation. You asked for my help?"

"Indeed," Severus said. "Are you aware of the strict rules governing the training of Librarians...?"

"Father was quite clear on the matter," Magnus said, smiling still. "Do not worry, I can sense the aspirants waiting. I had best go deal with your worries."

Without another word, the primary walked off, seeking those who would soon become those of Venefus' kind.

"I wish he was here," Severus said. Marcus nodded, knowing what his friend meant, and together they walked behind the psyker-Primarch. 


End file.
